


Bourbon.

by Quackity



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Dream Team - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alexis | Quackity Needs a Hug, M/M, bad habits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 11:26:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28562742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quackity/pseuds/Quackity
Summary: Quackity takes another swig, and now he can feel his head becoming clouded and a bit dizzy. As everything around him begins to spin and become unfocused, he begins to think that this isn’t so bad. It’s making him forget about Schlatt, about his friends, and about… everything. The boy attempts to stand up, legs wobbly as he uses his free hand to stable himself against the wall. He brings the bottle up to his lips once more, but this time, the once half-full bottle was now empty. When did he drink all of it? He wanted more.
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & Jschlatt, Alexis | Quackity/Jschlatt
Comments: 2
Kudos: 79





	Bourbon.

**Author's Note:**

> Reuploading this since people were complaining about me using Quackity's real name. [: Just mentioning that I do NOT ship the real life people, only the CHARACTERS they portray. Thank you, and if you enjoy, please do leave a kudos! [:

The alcohol burns down his throat. Quackity stares down at the half drunk bottle of aged bourbon whiskey that he holds in his hand by the neck; the same bottle Schlatt was drinking when he passed away. Schlatt. The president of Manberg and Quackity's behind-closed-door significant other; gone forever. The tears run freely down his cheeks, although he pays it no mind. He just takes another swig of the bourbon and leans his head back on the black brick where Schlatt’s funeral was held. It was almost torn down; blocks damaged from TNT and vandalism, and ashes from the burnt posters and pictures of Schlatt stained his black clothing.

When Quackity had lost Schlatt, it felt like he had lost everything. He didn’t know what to do anymore, and with every passing second, it felt as if he were losing himself more and more. Before Schlatt, Quackity would never find himself drinking. He absolutely hated everything about it, from the taste to the smell to how it made people act. Even when Schlatt was alive, he refused to drink with him. But, now that Schlatt was gone, drinking made him feel like Schlatt was still here. Maybe it was the strong oaky smell of the whiskey that filled his nose, the oh-so familiar scent, that made him feel like Schlatt was still around.

Droplets of chilly rain began falling from the sky above and onto Quackity's body; something the boy was grateful for because it’s covering up the fact that he’s crying. He didn’t want anyone to see him like this--this isn’t who he’s supposed to be. The people he surrounds himself with expects him to be the lighthearted and funny friend--not...not whatever he is now. He can’t let anyone see him like this.

Quackity takes another swig, and now he can feel his head becoming clouded and a bit dizzy. As everything around him begins to spin and become unfocused, he begins to think that this isn’t so bad. It’s making him forget about Schlatt, about his friends, and about… everything. The boy attempts to stand up, legs wobbly as he uses his free hand to stable himself against the wall. He brings the bottle up to his lips once more, but this time, the once half-full bottle was now empty. When did he drink all of it? He wanted more.

The nineteen year old stumbles forwards, glass bottle slipping from his grip and smashing onto the cobblestone pathway. The rain was falling heavier now, and Quackity's whole body felt like it was spinning. He just wanted to stop feeling how he did; he didn’t want to be sad anymore. He continues to try and walk, but his shaking legs give out from underneath him and cause him to collapse onto his knees on the glass covered floor, eyes squeezing shut but his body numb to the pain. He then lifts his head, blurred vision trying to make out what--or who--now stood in front of him. His vision flickered from unfocused to focused, and after a moment, he could finally make out the familiar figure that stood tall front of him.

“S-Schlatt?”


End file.
